


Prompt 26: "Come Over Here and Make Me."

by allthatjaz



Category: ALL OUT!! - Amase Shiori (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 12:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthatjaz/pseuds/allthatjaz
Summary: Starting something new is never easy. Especially, when you're Ebumi, and you just can't help fighting everything.





	1. COME OVER HERE

**Author's Note:**

> In which our hero attempts to master throwing balls while also bitchin', tries to start a fight with a stupid handsome second year who dares to be polite, makes his best friend question his life choices, swears, gets lost in said handsome guy's eyes like some shoujo protag, and then shows off cause he's cocky as shit and has a MUST WIN complex. It's good times.

Ebumi wasn’t sure why they were back again. This whole rugby deal seemed kind of lame, all they ever did was throw some balls around. But Ise seemed to enjoy wasting time here and he supposed it was something to do at the end of another useless school day.

He just wished there was some more running involved. That, and tackling, came later though according to Hachioji-senpai. First, they had to get the basics down. Which apparently meant tossing a weird arse ball around until it was decided they could pass and catch it accurately enough not to accidentally kill someone, or themselves.

This was all taught by the second years without a third year in sight. Ebumi had two theories on this: 1) it could be because of some stupid rugby tradition, and from what he’d seen of the sport so far, that wasn’t jumping the gun. Or, 2) it was because the third years were lazy bastards that didn’t want to deal with or teach the newbies anything and had happily given this brain numbing task to the second years without even a thought.

He strongly suspected it was the latter; having faith in his ability to spot arseholes when he saw them. Not that he could see any of them, unsurprisingly there were no third years here again today.

“They’ve all gone home already.”

“Huh?” Ebumi turned back to Ise, and remembering it was his turn to pass the ball, chucked it pathetically over to him, “and how do you know?”

Ise managed to catch the ball after a few awkward bounces, “Uh, I asked, uh, Hachioji-senpai…”

He squinted at Ise’s sudden blush but shrugged it off as unimportant and motioned for him to send the ball back. “What the hell kinda upperclassmen are they?”

Ise glanced around quickly, making sure no one was too close by. "Not very good ones...” he grumbled in nervous rebellion before attempting to spiral the ball like they had been shown.

Ebumi dodged spectacularly just before it could take off his head. “What the hell was that!”

Ise shrugged hopelessly, “An attempt?”

He sniggered and turned around to find the ball.

One of the second years had already picked it up and was waiting to throw it back. Ebumi remembered him from these last few practices Ise had dragged them to. His smile was always friendly, he had an approachable air about him, and he drove Ebumi up the damn wall.

“Here you go.”

Ebumi snagged the ball as it was tossed gently to him. “Yeah, whatever.” He turned his back on the guy and rolled his eyes at Ise’s exasperated expression.

“Thank you, Matsuo-senpai!” Ise smiled wide, way too eager. The second-hand embarrassment was gag worthy.

Matsuo returned it with a little laugh, ignoring Ebumi’s scoff, “don’t mention it, Ise.”

"We weren't going to." Ebumi snarled, his adrenaline waking up.

Giving him an annoyed elbow to the stomach, Ise persisted with the willing puppy routine. “We really do appreciate it!”

But Matsuo wasn't looking at Ise anymore, he was studying Ebumi. "You know, if you actually put the effort in you'd have it down already."

“Yeah?” He snorted, prickling at being sized up, “Come over here and make me.”

Ebumi had been in enough fights to know when one was about to start. There was always that pause, a second when the other party weighed their chances and their pride before they either came back swinging or tried to be the better person and walk away.

It surrounded him and this damn second year now, seeping into everything. And maybe he was just paranoid but for once the pause felt like it was for him and not his opponent. He didn’t enjoy that feeling, it wiggled its way into his stomach and stirred up his heart rate.

Was this prick giving him a moment to walk away? Fuck him.

There was a chuckle, one that would possibly be considered friendly if you weren’t paying attention. “Okay.” Matsuo passed the other ball he was holding to another second year near him and started over. 

The way he moved made Ebumi want to growl. It was lazy, almost bored, like he wasn’t expecting much but he’d humour him anyway. Bristling, he spread his own feet apart and pushed his hip out further, aiming to take up more space and steal attention away from his hitched breath.

Ise groaned in an exhausted fashion that meant he wasn't particularly surprised by the sudden change in their situation and was more just over it entirely before it had even begun.

Matsuo came to a stop several spaces away and motioned to the ball still in Ebumi’s hands, “pass it.”

“Huh?” He squinted, “what the hell!” This was not what he’d been gearing himself up for.

Matsuo laughed, light and casual, “the ball. Pass it here.” An amused smile was on his lips, but his eyes were full of all types of challenge.

Ebumi looked down at the oddly shaped ball and then glared back up at that never-ending smile. “Whatever, man.”

He tossed it in a way he hoped let all the arseholes watching know he really couldn’t care less about this.

“Hmm…” His throw was caught effortlessly and with a twitch of a smirk. “You could do better.”

“What did you say, turd?”

“Ebumi, don’t.”

He ignored Ise and kept his teeth gritted in Matsuo's direction.

“I said it could use work.” Matsuo's lips became softer, “but that’s to be expected. It takes most people a while to get a handle on the mechanics.”

Something in the way he said it rubbed Ebumi raw. “Yeah? And you were an exception, huh?”

The smile changed to something he couldn’t read, something he wanted to step away from.  
“Yeah, something like that. How’s your marking?”

“Huh?”

“Let’s find out.”

Ise sighed in frustration. “Ebucchi. Why do you always manage to escalate everything?"

Taking a small, light step backwards Matsuo ever so casually dropped the ball onto his cleat and booted it up into the air.

“What the-!”

“Catch it," Matsuo smiled, his eyes full of life now, "if you can..."

“Screw you!” Ebumi snapped back, furious at not wanting to look away from the change taking place in Matsuo's gaze.

“You're that fast? It's not waiting for you."

He finally grinned back with all his teeth, anger left behind, "you better freakin' believe I'm that fast!"

Matsuo put out a hand that said: convince me.

Ise's facepalm was audible as Ebumi tilted his head back to search the sky for the ball's location. It had stopped soaring and started plummeting.

He smirked, eyes still watching it descend and heart blazing. "Watch this, you arse."

He took off. Heading for the shape falling through the sunset. He was racing gravity and that was his favourite thing to beat. That, and smug second years who didn't know what was about to hit them.

This was what he called a good waste of time. No way was he losing. No freakin' way!


	2. AND MAKE ME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero takes offence to an attempted murder on his best mate (which, fair enough, man), doesn't appreciate idiots stealing his one-liners, gives a free kick to the enemy, eats dirt, postures a lot cause that's easier than admitting he just got minced by his crush and it may have turned him on slightly, swears some more, decides group wins may be just as juicy as solo wins, takes baby steps in the direction of teamwork, and shares a no doubt sneaky plan (but we'll never know as this writer is so damn vague).

Ise was still on the ground clutching his head, pain the only thing on his face.

Ebumi felt his hand transform into a fist. He hadn’t been playing rugby all that long but even he could tell that wouldn’t be written anywhere in the dos of the rulebook.

"Oi! Jackass. Lay the hell off!"

The guy who had moulded Ise into the playing field was big. Everything about him was big. Ise really hadn't stood a chance. But Ebumi had learned a long time ago that big didn't mean nothing if it was on its own. The guy was showing all the signs of a raging idiot.

“Come over here and make me.”

A line from an idiot. Especially when you were talking to someone like Ebumi. Someone who would.

He curled his lip, feeling the prickle of anticipation rush over him. "Make you, huh?"

"Yeah. Make me. You squirt."

Ignoring the senior players on his own team trying to get his attention as they ran over and a whistle blowing somewhere on the sidelines, Ebumi lunged. Quick, fast, and unpredictable. It was how he lived, and it was how he fought. It was how you won.

Soon hands started pulling hard on the back of his jersey, trying to tug him off, but the guy still had that smile on, like he’d won. Like he was the biggest dick alive. Like Ebumi hadn't just scared him shitless. He couldn’t think of anything but knocking those stupidly white teeth through that big, thick head. Going through anyone who wanted to try and stop him only seemed appropriate.

He swung them both around and away from the hands, ripping the guy's jersey into his fists and pulling. A second whistle went off, sounding angrier than the last. Ebumi couldn't care less about it. He pushed forward, getting right up close and personal, teeth all out, nose slamming into the guy's own. "Go at Ise again and you'll pay!"

The cocky smile wasn't so sure anymore, there was more white than smugness showing in the arsehole's eyes now.

Ebumi made his own eyes bigger, knowing he looked insane and unhinged. Enjoying it. "I'll fucking end y-!"

His shirt collar choked him and he gagged. Then he was on the ground, face buried in the muddy turf, his lungs empty.

Pain rolled along his shoulder blades and the echo of an ache started in his temple. Through the dizziness he heard the movements of cleats on mud and the fuzz of voices.

“Knock it off, Ebumi.”

He knew that voice.

“Go screw yourself, Matsuo-san!” He clenched his jaw, his teeth felt like plastic and his tongue like lead. The spots in his vision had danced with every word.

"That was two of a possible three." Matsuo said it like that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why there was now dirt in Ebumi's mouth.

A hand touched his shoulder and he hissed from the extra pain it grew. His head was spinning too much to know if it was friend or foe and instead of releasing a growl of warning as planned, he only managed a coughing fit.

“Ebucchi?”

Ise. Faded from the thunder in his head but still Ise.

“Let's get you up.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he braced for another punch of pain as he was rolled over. As suspected, it moved down his arm and ground into his fingers, fresh and angry at being ignored.

Ise apologized at his grunt and attempted to dust him off. Which was ridiculous, but Ise was ridiculous, so Ebumi let him. The mud only smeared even more into the fabric and Ise's frantic hands. “You okay? Matsuo-san yanked you super hard…”

Ebumi spat onto the sloppy field and tried to pull some air into his resisting lungs. “Bloody bastard.” He rasped.

"He did warn you before the match," Ise said, his face less sympathetic than Ebumi thought it should be. "Nothing above the shoulders, don’t continue to tackle after the whistle is blown, no giving pointless penalties to the other team, absolutely no fighting, no- Should I go on? You did all of those, you moron."

Ebumi glared, wishing his head wasn't so fucking painful so he could give Ise a proper look of murder. "Fuck off, teacher's pet."

Ise only rolled his eyes. "You okay to stand?"

He shrugged in response and seriously regretted it as soon as his shoulders shifted. Trying to pretend the pain wasn't there, he bit down on his tongue and accepting the offered hands, allowed Ise to pull him to his feet. Standing unsteadily, he waited for the world to stop its somersaults and then pushed off Ise; trying to find some balance on his own. Breathing was like a kick in the chest.

After finally constructing a decent glare, he aimed it at Matsuo. This didn't have the reaction he'd been going for as Matsuo didn't seem to notice, his eyes flickering from whatever was still happening behind them with the idiot thug and then in the direction Ebumi knew their own substitute bench was. 

He bit down on his lip angrily, needing to feel it tear between his teeth, and shot Ise a look instead. 

Ise was already shooting him a look of his own. A worried look. A look that said maybe they should pick their battles and not gleefully scoop every single one up like they were candy. That maybe they shouldn't go head first into everything cause one day they may lose said heads. A look that also said it knew backing down wasn't in Ebumi's hemisphere. A look that was going to try asking anyway.

Ise rubbed at his neck as he started, looking exhausted. "Ebumi, maybe we should just sit it-" 

His tone already said he knew Ebumi wasn't going to listen and his tone was damn right. This wasn't over.

"You ready to go again?" He meant: 'Are you hurt? Do you need me to go back over to that dick and finish that?' and 'You can sit this out but it's going to be fucking awesome! Let's beat these losers into the ground!' and he knew Ise would hear that.

Ise blinked. "I'm fine. Leave it. It was- you really shouldn't- you think they'll still let you play after that mess?"

Ebumi snorted and stared hard at Matsuo. Wanting a challenge, receiving amusement. "Obviously. Why do you think we’re in to start with? They need us.”

Matsuo only raised his eyebrows, not convinced, not sceptical. Just casual, irritatingly comfortable, and right. Always so bloody right. "Next time you're out for good,” was the only thing he gave them.

His unimpressed face drove Ebumi red hot. He stepped forward, getting close, glad frustration was now covering the savage beating in his head. "Whatever! I've got a plan, arsehole!"

"Really?" The eyebrows went up again, possibly intrigued this time, or just bored. "Well, do tell us."

Ebumi snarled. There was a beat where his fist was back in his hand and that brilliant feeling of getting into a fight nearly blew everything else out of the water. Nearly. Winning was just as good.

He was going to get this win; the whole crappy team be damned. He'd show that big idiot that you couldn't just throw Ise down and get off with nothing. Show them all how fast he could actually go. Show the world he didn't need them, he didn't need anything else, he just needed that look of defeat on the other team's faces. Just the glow of coming out on top of all of it.

Of out running it all.

And standing this close to Matsuo felt like the best fight of his life. It felt like every win he'd ever had tenfold. Like every hard night run he took with no company but his pulse.

He could feel Ise’s loyalty behind him, Matsuo's breath on his face, the plan wrestling to escape off his tongue. Crushed together, that all felt like growing wings. It made his heart fast and dangerous.

So, he told them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ('“Come over here and make me.”  
> A line from an idiot.'  
> Ha ha ha... You punked yourself, Ebumi! You used the line last chapter~ 😗)
> 
> The wonderful post this prompt was choosen from seems to be lost to the void so take a moment of silence for it and just believe me that it was neat as.
> 
> And you can find this mess of words originally posted [here](http://jazthespazz.tumblr.com/post/175366198994/ebumimatsuo-26) on, yes, that blue hellsite.
> 
> Also, we can blame my repeated listenings of Going Postal by Terry Pratchett for the notes at the beginning of both of these. Yeah? Yeah.

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago now [glameowstic](http://glameowstic.tumblr.com/) sent me this prompt on tumblr and I took sooooooo long to get it done and posted that they'd changed their URL by then.
> 
> Now I've finally put it over here for shits and giggles. All blame goes to my big sis [Upsetapplecart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upsetapplecart/pseuds/Upsetapplecart) for encouraging me to do so. You may direct all "but WWHHHHYY!!"s at her.
> 
> Many cheers to her and the other wonderful people (they should know who they are <3 ) for helping me finally mush this all together and for giving me nothing but support and inspiration. You guys are the Absolute Best!


End file.
